Fathers and Sons
by liebedero
Summary: A nightmare brings them closer together than they were before. He knows that he is good enough now. He knows, but he hadn't before. Featuring Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. Contains spoilers for Batman and Robin REBORN issue 16.
1. The Nightmare

A shot…blood…no, no, no…whispers…silence…death…no, no, no… A shot…blood…no, no, no… whispers…silence…death…no, no, no… A shot…blood…no, no, no…whispers…silence…death…no, no, no… A shot…blood…no, no, no…whispers…silence…death…NO, NO, NO!

* * *

The screaming woke Bruce up. Sure he was dog tired, but in this house, that was not uncommon, and made no matter. He was already to the room in question when these thoughts surfaced. Speed was his friend, time is enemy. Without hesitation Bruce reached to open the door, but a hand landing on his shoulder ended his single train of thought.

"I've got it Bruce, I'll take care of him," Dick Grayson's blue eyes looked tiredly, but steadily into Bruce's own. Go get some rest they said, lord knows you need it.

"You need to recuperate. Two months off, remember? No debate. You keep this up Dick, and it'll be longer. Your body needs rest to heal itself," Father looked to son concernedly. Dick ran himself too hard, not that he was one to talk…

"I know Bruce, but I've got this really," Intermittent yells still came from behind the door, when Dick opened it and entered the room, swiftly closing the door behind him. Gradually, the screams subsided. Bruce sighed. That was his job, not Dick's, to be in there, comforting his own flesh and blood son. He made another move to open the door…

"That would be most unwise, Master Bruce," His hand fell away from the door. Alfred. Always there to watch over any of the Wayne household. Always. Always knows best.

"How long?"

"If you are referring to Master Damian's nightmares, then I must proceed to tell you almost every night since your, absence, shall we call it now?" Silence filled the dark corridor.

"It should be me in there, my job. I'm his father, not Dick. I never meant to saddle-"

"You didn't, Master Bruce. Master Richard would be in there anyways, regardless. You see, the first time, Richard wasn't home. I do believe I sat for four hours with the boy, shaking, all tremors, and he wouldn't tell me a thing. Master Richard came and, well, you can imagine. Despite everything, your sons have formed a bond, Master Bruce, and it is strong,"

"I can't help but feel like Dick is slowly becoming me, Alfred. When his parents were gone, I took him in, and you helped me raise him as my own. And now Dick is raising Damian. It shouldn't be his burden,"

"It shouldn't have been yours either, Master Bruce. But just because it doesn't seem fair, doesn't mean that we don't rise to the occasion. Richard welcomed the chance to do right by Damian, and he took that responsibility onto his own shoulders. He loves your son, Master Bruce, if not as a little brother, then as his own. The burden was never yours alone, Master Bruce, and nor is his,'

* * *

Damian's nightmares were always pretty bad. 'Course he is only ten, despite his protests that it won't be for long anymore. He's almost eleven now. God, I can wait to find out what he'll be thinking he'll be entitled to do then, one year older. I doubt he'll act a year wiser, even if he has proven himself to be more than worthy of my confidence in him.

I enter the room, something that I have gotten quite used to, ever since Bruce… Like usual he is thrashing and shaking, in a cold sweat. The nightmares got worse over time, not better. Sometimes I wonder if he even remembers that he has them, if he even realizes the extent to which he was hurt by our Father's supposed death.

He sits up straight at my arrival, something that he has never failingly done. He surges towards me, and hugs me, arms around my neck. This is new. It must have been bad, really bad, this time. He'd never admit to ever having hugged me. He'd never go that far.

"It's okay Damian. He's here this time, remember? Bruce is alive, he's here, with us right now. I can even go get him, if you want," He clings tighter. Tim would never let him live this down. But Tim will never find out. "He's fine, he's alive,"

"Not father, YOU!" he exclaims, and I'm taken aback. Me? But the nightmares have always been about- "Turn around, show me, I want to see it," he demands.

The gunshot wound. I should have known. Me. He was afraid for me. He did his job – …superhero… time…- and he did it admirably. For all he knew I could have been dead already when he was disabling that bomb. His partner, his mentor, his brother, and? Dare I say it? A father figure? I tried being Him once-more than once- and I did it poorly. I'm a performer, it's what I do, not an actor.

I turn around and I can feel his sharp gaze burning into the back of my head, and the healing wound tingles. Satisfied he makes a sound and I turn to see his disapproving smug face glaring back at me. And this kid is ten? It still blows me away.

"You're real lucky, you know that Grayson?" he's being hostile with me, something he hasn't done since, God, the first encounter with Pyg and his Dollotrons. Trying to defend his reputation.

"Yeah, I know Damian, I know," and like a good big brother I grab him and ruffle his hair a little. He may whine, but he'll live. "Now go back to bed so that we can hit the streets in two months like Bruce said I could, kay?"

"Whatever, Grayson," he mumbles sleepily. No matter how he acts, I know now that Damian really does deserve my trust, my approval. I get up and leave, closing the door behind me. Hopefully that will put an end to the nightmares. Bruce is still waiting outside the door, but his eyes contain understanding now. Alfred. Always, Alfred. I'm sure that he explained to Bruce.

"You've got one fine kid there, Bruce, you really do," I say as I close the door. And just barely, as he looks after me, as I head down the hall to my own room, I can hear him say it, his gaze on me. The approval that I always sought from him. The knowledge that I was good enough for him.

"I sure do, Dick, I sure do,"


	2. Discussion

Damian. He's my son. But however hard I try, I'll never be his father. I've thought about it a lot. Well, more than a lot. Every time I see him. Correction. Every time I see _them_. Together. My sons. Damian may be the flesh of my flesh and the blood of my blood, but Dick is the heart of my heart and the soul of my soul.

And I left them both. For the War that I fight. A war on the evil that destroyed me. The me I was. I left them for my parents' memory. I left them for my selfless and unrelenting fight. Or is it selfish?

I can hardly lie to myself. I am the most selfish person that I know.

I wanted Richard to stay Robin. I wanted him to stay in my control. I didn't want to lose my son, and I risked the bonds that we had so carefully forged over the years, because I couldn't let him go.

I destroyed Jason Todd, simply because I wanted my eldest son back, so badly. I killed him. Effectively. I am his murderer.

I took Tim Drake under my wing. But I fear I have passed on my obsession to him. His family, dead. His girlfriend, his teammates. Dead. Once. Still. Once is bad enough it still feels like forever. A feeling that I fear may never leave him.

They are all so young, those that I have named.

I could name so many more. All of them scarred by me.

But still _they _remain dedicated to me. To the mission. To the War.

I'm obsessed.

I am one of the richest men in the world. I could have the lust of any woman I want. I could have millions of people devoted to me. Willing to do anything I said.

But not for me. If I was penniless, the masses would find Bruce Wayne to be nothing. Just another hopeless, helpless soul on the street, waiting for redemption.

Bruce Wayne is barely there anymore. Whoever he was. If he even ever was. I don't know if he lived or died that night. I don't know where he is buried. I don't even know if there ever was a grave, or a funeral. All I have are the broken pieces of a face with nothing behind it. A shell of a man that never was. An automaton.

No one but _they_ know and care for who I really am, even though I take and take and take, and all they do is give and give, tenfold what I take.

Dedication. Devotion. To me? To the mission? To what?

I'm obsessed. It's unhealthy to let that obsession pass unto them. I hardly think that I need to worry about Dick. It's really Tim that I worried about in that way. The obsession with stomping it out. Evil.

. But Damian… And Richard… Dick. My Eldest.

I've thrust fatherhood upon him. Dickie Grayson. More of a real playboy than Bruce could ever have been. More real and lasting relationships than I ever had. And now, he's a father before his own time. He has to make adult evaluations and decisions that he has _never _before had to deal with.

Fatherhood.

I wasn't ready either. And now he is headed in the same direction. Raising the child that isn't his own. A brother, but still. Being the father of a boy who has no other dominant parental figures, who has lost much, and is totally unique. A situation that I wish on no one. Much less the son I raised. Richard. He is still that son.

And I cannot see him become me. No matter how good he is with Damian. I can't… I just…

My mistakes are many. My pride is few.

Richard is my pride. The only thing I ever did right. Hell, if I did it all over again, with him I'd barely change a thing. Just one.

I's say those words. Just those four. An I. An L. A Y. A S. There should be more consonants and some vowels in there, and a comma, but if I never said them then, what good will they do now?

20/20 vision in hindsight. That's what I have heard. That is what I have experienced.

I have let my mistakes and others mistakes define who I am today. I won't let my mistakes define my sons.

"Damian, go back upstairs," Dick whispered as the two exited the stairwell of the Batcave II. Damian looked up at his older brother in outrage.

"Why? We have to-"

"Just go, I want to talk with Bruce. Alone." After a moment of consideration, Damian relented. There was no point arguing. Any discussion with _the Batman_ was bound to be short enough.

"Fine," As the newest Robin made his way back up the stairwell, Dick Grayson walked purposefully up to the chair where Bruce Wayne sat, stock still, in front of the Computer system. He was unblinking.

"Bruce?" The sound of Dick's voice called him out of his reverie, and Bruce looked up, his face expressionless, shrouded in the dark.

"Dick? What is it?" Emotionless. That was how Dick remembered hearing his mentor and father figure described by all those who had met him. It was one word of few, and it stood out.

"You're brooding again," There was a reigning silence before the sudden storm that Dick suddenly knew was to come. Jaw clenched, eyes glazed in a far away look, their depths stormy and wicked with the dark thoughts that so often enshrouded his mind. That was the image of the man underneath the cowl.

Sometimes, Dick hardly thought him a man at all. But he had rarely ever looked more human than the moment he spoke, his deep and quiet voice barely a murmur in the still silence. Yet to Dick it sounded like a thunder-crack, loud and clear.

"I'll never be his father.

"What are you talking about? Of course you're his-"

"How can I? I'm never around. Ever. How Can I be there for him?"

"Bruce, he looks up to you, we all-

"But he isn't comfortable in my presence. Like he has to live up to my expectations. That isn't how a son should feel. He shouldn't feel obligated to be perfect. No one is perfect. No one. Not even him. How could he be? I'm not the father I should be, I -

"But you've done great. With me. With Tim. We turned out just fine, we ne-

"No. I failed you, Dick. You and Tim. Jason. And now Damian. I'm hardly his father in any more than blood-

"No! Stop! Just calm down. Damn your talkative this evening,"

"You're his father, Dick. You take care of him. You care about him. I've seen it. You can be there for him, when I can't. And then someday, when I tired, and beaten and sick of this obsession, maybe soon, I can be there for him. The way that I want to be. Just promise me that you'll be there for him. Promise me son,"

"I promise…Father,"

"Hindsight is 20/20. You know that, don't you Dick?"

"Yeah. Everyone sees their mistakes looking back,"

"I'm sorry for the ones that I made with you,"

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past,"

Bruce looked down. "But there are still things left unsaid. Lots of things left unsaid," Glancing back up at Dick, Bruce locked his gaze. "Thing that you need to hear yet,"

"I know everything that you could possibly think to tell me," Bruce chuckled at his eldest son's response.

"But it's never the same as hearing it,"

"I need to retrieve Damian. He was expecting this to be short and we need to be on patrol," Dick said quietly with a sence of finality. He turned and headed back up the steps. When he was just to the doorway, Bruce spoke, no more than a murmur.

"I love you, Richard. I always thought of you as my son,"

He could have sworn that Dick had paused. The past was the past, but hindsight was a constant reminder of the past. Perhaps it was time to fix some mistakes. Starting with Dick. And then Damian. He should spend some quality time with them both. He vaguely wondered if Damian liked dogs. Or cats.

Bruce smiled for a moment. He could be so happy if he wanted to. There was so much potential to have a happy life. A happy family. Perhaps it wasn't beyond his reach.

And suddenly Bruce had only one thought.

Selina.


End file.
